


Censored

by NoisyNoiverns



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 03:14:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4418987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoisyNoiverns/pseuds/NoisyNoiverns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Outside the Council chambers, Councilor Sparatus has a tendency to swear like a sailor. This makes what happens after babysitting his grandchildren for a week a rather unique problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Censored

Councilor Valern was, for all intents and purposes, a practical salarian. He remembered everything that might be important, he kept in good terms with anyone who might be useful to him later on down the line, and he kept his damn mouth shut unless absolutely necessary.

But sometimes, that was easier said than done.

Today, for example.

Oh, the day started off about usual, only a few minor changes to the routine. Sparatus and his wife were watching their grandchildren while their son and daughter-in-law were out of town, so they met up where they usually stopped for coffee rather than at Sparatus’ apartment building’s lobby so Sparatus could drop the children off at school.

That was where Valern got his first hint something was amiss. When Sparatus, as he always did, took a drink of his coffee before it was cooled down, he yelped, “Fudge!”

Valern raised a brow at him, but internally shrugged. Sparatus’ brain never really worked at a hundred percent capacity at this time of day. He’d been known to use odd words as expletives when he was tired. He’d be fine in an hour or so. So while his friend recovered from burning himself, Valern simply pulled up his omni-tool and opened a reader app. “So, should we see what the gossip rags are saying today?”

Sparatus snorted and shook his head a bit, then straightened up and started walking back towards the door. “I still don’t understand why you read that trash.”

“I think it’s funny. For example, the _Inquisitor_ thinks your wife was out cheating on you last night.”

“Cheating on Kaevus’ math homework, more like. It hasn’t been that fricking long since Callie left school, I doubt the rules have changed that dang much that the kids are allowed to use stinking calculators on addition drills. What else are they saying today?”

Valern raised his brow again, but flipped through the headlines. “For someone who decries them as garbage, you’re awfully interested in what they have to say. Look, the _Daily_ says Shepard is back from the dead.”

“Should we tell them they’re a few months late?”

“Nah.”

The remainder of the walk to work wasn’t much different, getting caught up on the latest fabrications by two-bit tabloids and snickering over what they considered “news,” all peppered with various “curses” Valern hadn’t heard since his last breeding contract period, before the children stopped repeating everything they heard. Given Sparatus’ propensity for swearing up a storm outside the Council chambers, it was more than a bit unnerving.

They parted ways at the salarian embassy. The turian embassy was several floors up, and an ambassador informed Valern a dalatrass was waiting for him to call her back. If it was at all wise to keep a dalatrass waiting, Valern would have accompanied Sparatus up to the turian embassy, but since it wasn’t, the turian left him with an acknowledgement that it was his turn to by lunch and a screech of “ _Fish nuggets!_ ” as he hit his toe against the stair rail.

* * *

 

Lunch break in the turian embassy had a set routine to it. First Sparatus came back from the mid-morning Council meeting. Then interns started running around trying to get the morning business wrapped up, a phenomenon Ambassador Tollak Madelivio affectionately dubbed “the terror-panic of the interns.” Then came the lower-level diplomats arguing over where the takeout menus were.

“… And then Valern shows up,” Tollak narrated, checking the time display on his omni-tool. “In three, two, aaaand cue Valern.”

He whipped his head around just as the salarian councilor meandered into the embassy, his usual messenger bag of tech and datapads slung over one shoulder. Tollak’s mandibles fluttered in amusement and looked back at the other ambassadors sitting with him. “See?”

“That was luck,” Ambassador Denterius protested. “There’s no way for it to be that exact.”

“Or is there?” Tollak teased, nodding respectfully to Valern as he slipped into their haphazard circle and adding, “Hullo, Councilor.”

Valern nodded, crossing his arms. “He still busy?”

“Most likely,” Denterius hummed. “A good number of calls came in for him during the meeting.”

Valern shrugged. “Fine. I can wait.”

A subvocal “ _of course”_ thrummed through the group, then Ambassador Orinia cleared her throat. “Councilor Valern, sir,” she began as the subvocals quieted out of respect, “you were with Councilor Sparatus before work this morning, weren’t you?”

Valern nodded. “I was. Why?”

“Did you notice anything… _odd_ about him today?”

He paused for a moment, then the most delighted grin Tollak had ever seen on a salarian spread across his face. “He’s still doing it?”

“If by ‘it’ you mean ‘swearing like he’s in a show for babies,’” Quentius said, putting his hands behind his back, “then yes, yes he is.”

The councilor let out a short cackle and clapped his hands. “Excellent!”

Tollak raised a brow plate. “Sir?”

Valern shifted his weight to one foot and crossed his arms, still wearing that manic grin. “So,” he said cheerfully, “who wants to tell him?”

The other brow plate shot up to join the first, and the other ambassadors mirrored Tollak’s expression. Valern glanced around the circle, then rolled his eyes as, behind him, the holo-lock on the councilor’s door flashed green and disappeared. “Fine, I will. More fun for me, then.”

“What are we talking about?” Sparatus asked, mandibles held loosely to his face in a bored expression.

“Nothing, sir,” Denterius said. “There’s an hour and twenty minutes left for lunch, so you may want to get going.”

“Yes, yes, I know, Lisia, thank you,” he said, waving a hand. “We’ll be down the block. Ping me if you need me.”

“Of course, sir.”

Sparatus nodded with a grumble and walked off, Valern hopping to follow. Tollak watched them walk off, heads bowed together in conversation like they always seemed to be, then turned back to the group.

He was just about to ask if anyone had any ideas for lunch when a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the embassy.

His head whipped around to see Sparatus collapsing and Valern doubling over with laughter, clutching his stomach and ignoring Sparatus’ moans of horror.

He froze for a moment, then rushed over, almost getting knocked aside by Ambassador Quentius along the way.

The embassy door opened when he was about three-quarters there, and Tevos strode in, Anderson close behind. “What’s wrong?” Tevos asked. “Who screamed?”

Tollak wasn’t sure why she’d asked, considering Sparatus was still making some rather horrified noises, but shrugged it off. Maybe it was some sort of common courtesy to her. By now, Valern had also sank to the floor, still laughing like it was all his body could remember how to do.

Tevos and Anderson shared a look, then Tevos repeated, “What’s wrong?”

Valern took a deep, gasping breath, then managed to wheeze out, “The gods are real and they’ve smiled on me today.”

“ _What?”_

He took a few more breaths, then got to his feet, leaning on a desk for support, still wearing that manic grin. “He’s been watching his grandkids and the censoring got to him.”

Sparatus made a pitiful noise from the floor, and Anderson frowned. “Is that what this is about?”

Tollak glanced at the other ambassadors, and Quentius offered, “He’s been censoring himself all day, Councilor. Kind of weird, really.”

Sparatus finally spoke, moaning, “My wife’s never going to let me hear the end of this.”

Valern made a suspiciously delighted sort of noise and pulled up his omni-tool. “Speaking of Aediteia…”

“Don’t you dare!”

Sparatus scrambled to his feet, and Valern darted for the door. Being significantly thinner, he was able to slip between Tevos and Anderson, whereas Sparatus was slowed down by having to push through. The other two councilors turned to stare as they ran off, then looked back at the ambassadors. “So…” Anderson began, “Councilor Sparatus screamed to bring the roof down… because he wasn’t swearing?“

“That’s what I understand, sir,” Denterius replied, and Tollak and the others bobbed their heads in agreement.

Anderson and Tevos looked at each other again, then Anderson threw up his hands and headed for the door. “I’ll _never_ understand those two.”


End file.
